


Let the stars watch

by ABookAndACoffee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Emerie doesn't know what to do, F/F, Flirting, Mor is so pretty, Spoilers for Book 4: A Court of Silver Flames, idk where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee
Summary: Mor and Emerie have only exchanged sidelong glances and smiles, until their paths cross and Emerie finds herself in the awkward situation of having insulted her.
Relationships: Emerie/Morrigan (ACoTaR)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Let the stars watch

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea for a plot for this yet, but I kinda want there to be one? If it ends up just being a one-shot I'll change it. :)
> 
> It was based on the prompt: Will you please get your horse out of my way?

“Will you please get your horse out of my way?” Emerie’s voice was clipped, impatient, though the height of the mare before her prevented her from seeing who she spoke to. She had hours of work ahead of her, supplies to purchase in Velaris before she headed back to her store, and less time to complete the work since training had gone so long. 

A sudden increase in women interested in becoming Valkyries had been a blessing and a curse, as they needed individual attention to their form and their own strengths and weaknesses to be adjusted to create cohesive units of women ready for battle. Taking over the job done previously by Cassian and Azriel gave Emerie, Nesta, and Gwyn a new appreciation for just how difficult - and frustrating - it could be to retain patience while watching someone fail over, and over, and over again. And to retain hope that one day, they would be a force as formidable as the Illyrians. 

In response to Emerie's request, Morrigan leaned to the side, her thighs gripping the mare’s sides as her center of gravity shifted. 

“And why, may I ask, would you assume that Ellia is in your way,” she quipped. “Perhaps _you_ were in _her_ way.”

Emerie’s eyes widened when she took in Morrigan atop the snow-white horse. She was all dark in Illyrian-style leathers, but her hair flowed loose and golden nearly to her waist. She recalled to mind what Emerie imagined Valkryies looked like, not now but from the old tales that Gwyn collected for Merrill. An unflinching gaze, a rod-straight spine, ready for battle in defense of the defenseless, but then there was something else that gave Emerie a fluttering in her stomach. That twinkle in Morrigan’s eye, the hint that she was always just a moment away from laughing with her full body, taking Emerie’s self control with her.

Instead, Emerie straightened and nodded her head in deference. “I’m sorry, Lady. I did not know it was you.”

Emerie did a quick inventory of herself - her hair was still braided back in a long plait, though she likely had frizzy strands threatening to pop free. The sweat from training had dried but left her with a familiar, yet uncomfortable film on her skin. She could have looked better, but given the intensity of their training these days, Emerie counted her blessings on Ramiel with the knowledge that she could have appeared much, much worse.

Morrigan reached down and patted the horse's mane affectionately. “And do you know anyone else who rides a beauty like this? Her name is Ellia.” 

Morrigan swung a leg around and stepped down off the horse, holding the bridle in her hands to guide Ellia to a nearby hitching post. 

“I’ve seen you around,” Morrigan said as she worked to secure Ellia. “At Windhaven, in the library. With Nesta and Gwyn.” 

Emerie nodded again. “I’ve been training with them. We’re Valkyries.” She couldn’t help the hint of pride that leaked into her voice then, but supposed that she had earned it.

“And what do you plan to do? With your training?” Morrigan patted Ellia’s side before she turned to face Emerie. Her head cocked slightly and Emerie felt her mouth go dry.

“Train others,” Emerie began. Then she cleared her throat and started again. “Whether they have had their wings clipped, or their families allow it, we take everyone. We want to defend the Night Court, but not only that. Anyone who needs defending. We will be there to help them. We are not tied to a court but to an idea. To ensure that justice prevails, no matter who, or what, we must fight.”

Emerie had never had a chance to say it out loud before, not to anyone other than Nesta and Gwyn. She sometimes felt that there was a naïveté to her ideals, whispering with her friends every evening before bed over a bottle of wine, but they had certainly been able to prove their mettle since. The boldness of the claim would have been laughed at by others - _had_ been laughed at by others - but Morrigan nodded in approval.

“I would have expected no less. I know something about what it’s like,” Morrigan responded, her voice darkening. They began to walk together towards the center of Velaris. “To have your wings clipped. To seek flight in other places. I admire it, what you and the others are doing. I had planned to join you more often, but I haven’t been able to get away.” 

Disappointment and bitterness were laced into that last phrase. It seemed so at odds with the light and laughter that seemed to exist just beneath the surface of Morrigan’s countenance that Emerie wanted to wipe it away any way she could. 

“We would be happy to have you, Lady. Anything that you could teach us would be of great help. We have books, and Cassian and Azriel have been invaluable during training. But we have never seen battle. And I suspect that it’s nearly on the horizon.”

“Yes, Elain has said as much,” Morrigan answered. But she seemed distant, her thoughts already elsewhere, and Emerie felt herself fading into the background of the beautiful High Fae’s concerns. It was only a matter of time, she supposed. She'd never be able to hold the interest of someone like the Morrigan for long. 

They walked together in silence for another moment, Emerie aware that she needed to take another road, wanting to prolong the conversation, unable to find a way to break into Morrigan's suddenly contemplative mood. Surely the Morrigan wouldn't be interested in her, not when she'd been betrothed to the son of a High Lord. She likely would frown at Emerie's vulgar language and worse humor. So they continued quietly, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes.

The two women stopped in front of a store whose front Emerie had never noticed before. Morrigan blinked and seemed to come back to herself, from where her mind had taken her at the thought of war.

"I suppose you have business to attend to, Lady. I'll let you go." Emerie lowered her head again and made to turn on her heel. Morrigan touched her elbow, barely making contact but stopping Emerie in her tracks.

"You still owe Ellia an apology." The twinkle had returned to Morrigan's eyes and Emerie wanted to sigh in relief, to bask in that warmth forever. Then she stopped to consider Morrigan's words.

"Ellia?"

"My horse."

Emerie smacked her own forehead. "Oh, right, of course. But, a horse?" She scrunched her nose in incredulity. "Is she a... magic horse? Can she understand our language? I am so sorry to have given offence, I did not realize..."

Morrigan began to laugh and it started in her shoulders, quaking as she held a hand over her mouth before she doubled over in laughter, grasping Emerie's shoulder to keep upright. Before long, Emerie found herself laughing as well. Morrigan's laughter was likely, she thought, why the muses decided to call laughter infectious.

"Thank you for that," Morrigan said. "You must learn to not take the things I say so literally." She smiled and Emerie found herself wondering if one of the portraits in the High Lord's home had managed to capture such beauty. 

"I'll remember that, Lady. For the future. But I really must go." Emerie gestured down the street in the opposite direction and sighed to remember the tasks the day still had waiting for her. 

"Emerie," Morrigan said. "I think I'd like to make a date."

"A date, my Lady?"

"Yes, to come and watch your training. I'd like to see what you are capable of, how I can help. I can't imagine I would have much to teach a Carynthian. But maybe we'll surprise one another."

"Of course, Lady. We train daily, in the mornings. Cassian can likely tell you when the best time is to come."

"I'll check with Cassian, then. And Emerie?"

Emerie tried to turn away from her, to remember that she had a home and a store and women who counted on her to teach them self-defense and more. That Morrigan likely had a string of lovers and suitors waiting for her to choose them.

“Call me Mor.”


End file.
